


the strain of separation

by NotPersephone



Series: Count and Countess Lecter [37]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: But when is he not?, F/M, Hannibal is over dramatic, My happy marrieds, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:47:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21549373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotPersephone/pseuds/NotPersephone
Summary: Bedelia goes away for two days and Hannibal is not taking it well.
Relationships: Bedelia Du Maurier/Hannibal Lecter
Series: Count and Countess Lecter [37]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/884424
Comments: 18
Kudos: 38





	the strain of separation

There have been a lot of sights affronting Hannibal’s eyes over the course of his life, but none of them were quite as offending as a view of a half-packed leather bag, resting idly on the edge of the bed.

“There is no need to sulk, Hannibal.”

Lost in his disapproving glare, he almost startles as Bedelia exists her wardrobe and walks towards their bed with a scrutinising glance directed at him.

“I am not sulking,” he retorts at once, but his face turns sullener still.

Mouth twitching, her watches as she places the remaining items of clothing in the bag. She then moves towards her vanity to retrieve her cosmetics. Hannibal’s eyes follow her progress with silent fervour of unwarranted despair.

“Hannibal, this was your suggestion,” she says gently, noticing his eyes growing dimmer with sorrow the fuller the bag becomes.

Hannibal nods faintly. It was indeed his idea; an equestrian show in France seemed like a perfect affair for Bedelia to enjoy considering her newly rekindled love for horses. He was thrilled to have secured an invitation; seeing her thriving in her passions is what he wants most. But the happy anticipation soon turned into unexpected vexation as the date of the event collided with an accepted consult from a specialist in restoring antique stained glass, an appointment Hannibal was trying to obtain for months. It was merely a small window part that needed replacement, but, for Hannibal, the cracked glass was like a rotten cherry on top of the otherwise sublime creation of their home. It were not likely the expert’s calendar would be free again any time soon; the niche area of expertise gave a small number of available days, especially given the travel it involved.

_Travel_

The irony of the situation is not lost on him as he once again mules over the entire decision process.

“It is only two days,” Bedelia interrupts his dull thoughts, pressing on in the same reassuring way.

She suggested they cancel the trip altogether, but there was no need for her to be devoid of pleasure for a meeting that Hannibal could easily handle on his own.

_It is only two days._

But as the bag closes, his heart sinks in his chest, clearly not ready to part with her, no matter how briefly.

“Do not fret, if I were to leave you, I would be taking a lot more couture,” Bedelia says with a playful grin, an obvious tease, but Hannibal’s expression becomes even more sorrowful, making her abandon any further attempts of humour.

She leaves the bag and steps closer to him, hand reaching out to stroke his cheek in silent reassurance. His head turns at once, kissing the inside of her palm with ardent affection. She smiles as he cradles her hand, slowly inhaling the scent of her, each note swirling in his nostrils and leaving him pleasantly heady. As all the familiar notes settle in its full bouquet, a new emotion overpowers his anguish: worry.

They have not been apart for more than one day since they left the States, with a single exception of his overnight stay in Vilnius. But that was merely one night, and, on that occasion, Hannibal’s mind was eased by the knowledge that Bedelia was left in the safety of their home, but now having her be the only who is leaving puts numerous strains of his thoughts.

He cannot protect her from a distance.

The burdens on his mind manifest in the furrow of his brow and make Bedelia’s hand stroke his cheek with fresh tenderness.

“Will you be all right?” she asks ever so softly, a distress of her own reflected in her gaze.

Her words startle him; lost in his own concerns, he has not thought about a possibility of her being worried just as much but _about him_. He covers her hand with his, soaking up her warmth and love. Being cared after is still so astonishing to him. A new decisive notion overpowers his mind; to always give her everything she needs.

“Of course, I will,” he takes her hand and now kisses the top of her palm, marking his words and making her smile.

“It is _only two days_ ,” she repeats in the same gentle tone, not wanting to stir his concern anew.

Hannibal nods; still not thrilled with the idea of being away from her but determined to let her enjoy her trip. Above all, he wants her to be happy.

Bedelia gives him a final appraising look and returns to her bag; she checks its contents one last time and closes the zip. Despite all his mental efforts, Hannibal flinches at the sound.

He drives her to the airport later that evening, the journey passing in silence as Hannibal reconsiders all safety measures to be taken. He glances at her, sitting in the passenger’s seat, looking as composed and strong as ever. Hannibal knows she can look after herself better than he can, but he cannot help but remain tense.

Once they arrive at the destination, he walks her all the way to the check in area, her bag resting heavily in his hand, his grip tauter than necessary. They reach the gates’ entrance and Bedelia stops, ready to retrieve her bag and part. Hannibal’s mouth presses into a thinnest of lines while his hold on the bag tightens. Bedelia’s head tilts ever so slightly, the usual tell-tale gesture of deep scrutiny; he expects her to reprimand him for this foolish behaviour, but she does not. Instead she merely reaches her hand and takes the bag from his grip; he does not fight it. She lets the bag rest on the floor next to her, then, unexpectedly, leans forward and kisses him.

It is not like her to favour public displays of affection, but now she presses her lips against his with fervent affection, her hand gently cradling his cheek in a soothing gesture. Hannibal’s arms instantly encircle her back and he pulls her closer, sealing the sensation of her body against his for the days to come. He does not want to let her go, but as she ends the kiss, his arms obediently release her from the embrace. She reaches down for her bag, then looks at him with a soft smile on her face.

“Behave,” she tells him, her voice firm, but a playful gleam illuminates her gaze. Hannibal cannot help but smile back at her.

“Only for you,” he responds in the same puckish manner, but his heart swells with a sudden tide of emotions towards her.

And he is already working hard to keep his word; it takes all of his self-control not to scoop her in his arms anew.

She smiles at him one last time and turns towards the entrance. He watches her walk away, rooted to the spot, oblivious to all other people passing around him, his eyes fixed on Bedelia, until she disappears behind the door, the halo of her hair being the last thing he sees. Hannibal sighs heavily and sets to leave, despite obvious reluctance rendering each of his steps heavier than usual.

The drive back appears longer than usual, the road lengthening in proportion to his sinking spirits. The rain begins to fall as he reaches the castle, a fitting accompaniment to his growing gloom, but this irony escapes his perception, the only thing on his mind is whether the change of weather could impact Bedelia’s journey.

Upon entering the hall, he removes his coat and goes straight to the library, a stack of books awaiting him in anticipation are sure to take his mind of Bedelia’s departure.

_It is only two days._

He sits down behind his desk, eyes falling on the selection of books he looked forward to perusing, a broad selection of topics, spines tempting him with shiny lettering in different languages, but none of them piques his mind. Hannibal stares at the leather bounded volumes without really seeing them at all. Finally, he picks the one on the very top and opens it, hoping words, any words, will distract his mind.

But it is for nought, his eyes glide over the sentences without taking them in. His attention keeps slipping to the side, focusing on the watch on his wrist. He keeps tracking the minutes, thinking about the progress of Bedelia’s journey.

_Did she get through security safely? Did the plane leave on time? Is she having a comfortable journey?_

He frowns at the thought, knowing well that Bedelia is not particularly fond of flying. She has reassured him she would be fine, but it leaves him apprehensive, knowing that he is not there to hold her hand.

_She can look after herself._

He holds onto the thought while his gaze returns to the book, the same page he has been trying to finish for the last twenty minutes. Soon, his stare wonders anew, this time falling on the phone lying on the edge of his desk. It is not like him to pay much attention to the device, only using it when necessary, but now he has succumbed to the level of mindless masses staring at the black screen without purpose. He knows there is no point to it; they have agreed she will call him tomorrow morning after resting and settling in her hotel suite. Still, the logical knowledge does not stop his head from turning every few minutes.

Eventually, he closes the book with another loud sigh, not feeling any better than he did when he first sat down to the task. He leaves the library and makes his way to the kitchen, preparing himself dinner, but without his usual gusto. The nourishment is welcomed but not savoured. Having thoroughly cleaned every inch of the counter, he decides to call it a day and retreat to the bedroom, his steps heavy on the way up the stairs.

He enters the bedroom and an unexpected shiver passes down his spine; the room feels _cold_ , a sensation Hannibal has never been familiar with. He knows it is all in his mind, but the chill settles under his skin as his eyes inspect each corner of the normally beloved space that now is empty without her presence.

A long, hot shower heats his body but does nothing to warm his mind. The room is veiled in darkness when he leaves the bathroom, further accentuating her absence. He slips beneath the covers with hope of instant oblivion of sleep, but his eyes refuse to close, his head turning towards the vacant space on Bedelia’s side. He moves closer to her pillow, inhaling deeply. All the notes of her aroma are still there, and he takes a moment to catalogue them one by one. He knows she will not be gone long enough for the scent to vanish, yet his thoughts keep over exaggerating the brief parting, painting them in sombre colours on the walls of his mind.

Hannibal has been alone for most of his life, but now that he finally has Bedelia by his side, he does not want to be without her ever again. He has almost lost her once.

_Never again._

He wonders if she too has trouble sleeping tonight. As he finally begins to drift away, he places his hand on her pillow, wishing he could somehow make sure she was warm enough.

Hannibal wakes up early the following morning, feeling instantly restless. These early moments are usually his favourite time of the day when he gets to savour the feel of Bedelia’s body pressed against his, his senses waking up slowly, his fingers stroking her hair as she continues to sleep peacefully, feeling safe in his embrace.

But now the bed is empty; his hand reaches out to her side anew, stroking the sheets with an overstated sorrow. He lingers in bed for a brief moment, eyes once again trying to find purpose in the vacant corners, but to no use. It leaves him with nothing, but to get up, hoping movement will clear his clouded mind. He glances at the phone, looking out of place laying on his bedside table, still staring back at him with a blank, black screen. It is way too early for Bedelia to be awake, but it does not ease his discomfort. He shakes off the melancholy and decides to go for a run.

Isn’t that what people do to, focus on physical activities to quiet their minds?

Hannibal has never thought he would be in need of such pedestrian remedies. He leaves immediately, enjoying the crisp air of an early morning, waking up his senses with its piercing sharpness. He extends his usual route, welcoming the temporary fatigue of his muscles, dulling his thoughts in a process.

Upon returning, he takes a quick shower, afraid he might miss Bedelia’s call if he lingers there for too long, running water dulling his hearing. But the phone remains silent. He dresses and makes his way to the kitchen to prepare coffee, taking the stubborn device with him.

As the last drop of coffee trickles into his glass, the phone rings; the sudden sound resonates loudly alongside the high walls of the kitchen, startling Hannibal, despite all his anticipation. He reaches for it immediately, picking up before the second ring ends.

_Hello?_

_Good morning._

The well-known sound of Bedelia’s voice caresses his ears with its enticing melody. He lets the vibration echo within his mind for a second, savouring the notes, before he answers.

_Good morning. Was your journey pleasant?_

_Yes, it was. And the hotel is most comfortable._

She pauses briefly and Hannibal imagines her so clearly, stretching herself out on a bed of her suite.

_Thank you for making the arrangements. An excellent choice._

The picture of her forming in his mind, combined with her praise, make his pulse quicken.

_Of course, only the best for you._

Another pause; Hannibal can almost see the smile that undoubtedly blooms on her lips at this moment.

_How was your evening?_

Unusually mundane nature of the enquiry reminds Hannibal that she is worrying about him as well. His heart skips an unexpected beat.

_It was agreeable._

He attempts to make his words sound casual, but a desolate note slips beneath the last syllable.

_Do you miss me?_

The direct question startles him, piercing through his self-pity with a sharp hook of a purposeful lure, but he does not care, breathing out the answer instantly.

_Yes._

He hears a chuckle, so faint he might as well have imagined it, but he is certain it was there.

_Good._

The word sends his pulse galloping, sudden rush of blood making his skin tingle; he is ready to drop everything and get on the next plane to join her, wanting nothing more than to scoop her in his arms immediately. But the thrill is short lived.

_I must go; the exhibition of horses starts in an hour._

Her voice returns to its factual tone, bringing the playful moment to a premature end. And Hannibal’s dejection returns with fresh force.

_I will see you soon._

Bedelia offers him reassurance, sensing the sadness luring on the other side of the line. Or perhaps she comforts herself as well.

Wishing him a pleasant day, she is gone before he gets a chance to ask her if she misses him too.

The vision of her lingers in his mind as he sets to prepare his breakfast. As he cracks the egg over a heated pan, he considers her possible attire (or lack of thereof) and the way her hair curls in its morning dishevelment. Lost in his thoughts, he does not notice when the egg goes from appetising yellow to burnt brown. Stunned, he immediately disposes of the evidence of his culinary failure as if it had not happened. His next attempt proves up to his usual, faultless, standards, the stream of his mind forcefully directed towards the task at hand even if he will never admit it.

He savours his own creation with a quiet contemplation, but his momentary repose of mind is soon gone. His thoughts once again venture to Bedelia, but this time a fresh coat of worry paints the walls of his palace as he wonders about the quality of food at her hotel.

_Will her breakfast be up to standards and satisfy her taste?_

His musings are cut short by the approaching hour of his appointment. He collects his thoughts and himself, putting on a suit of perfect composure matching the one he chooses to wear in its flawless design.

The man and his apprentice arrive at the exact pre-arranged time, instantly prompting Hannibal’s favourable approach. The meeting confirms the first impression; the assessment is thorough and knowledgeable, with plans for obtaining a matching glass for the window and recreation of the pattern to follow.

Hannibal bids them goodbye with a satisfied mind; at least his temporary solitude has not been for nought. He retires to the library and re-reads the notes on proposed restoration, but it does not take him as long as he would like. Now that the purpose of the day has come to pass, he is once again restless.

He has always enjoyed being occupied at all times, his mind accustomed to several trains of thoughts running perfectly without fail, but now nothing seems engaging enough to pursue. The disobeying mind makes him unease, emotions taking over his iron self-discipline in a way that is still new to him. He tries still; he rearranges and catalogues most of the bookshelves, checks several online auctions, yet it is nothing but exasperating in its sudden monotony. As the hours pass, he is close to tearing down the walls in pursuit of appropriate distraction.

He finally finds a right track to focus on as the evening nears and he spends it planning a dinner for Bedelia’s return tomorrow, an elaborate meal with her most favourite dishes. He pre-prepares the vegetables and fruits and marinates the meat, knowing well that the scale might be excessive, but Bedelia has been deprived of fine cuisine for a day now, which in Hannibal’s mind means she might as well have not eaten at all. As all the components are ready for further preparation tomorrow, Hannibal leaves the kitchen, feeling satisfied, and his mind calming down at last.

As he lies down on the bed, he smiles to himself, knowing that tomorrow night he will hold Bedelia in his arms again. For now, he holds onto that thought as it lulls him to sleep with its promise of prompt reunion.

He wakes up suddenly, the consciousness washing over his dreams with a cold runlet. With his eyes still closed, he senses an unexpected feel of a familiar petite body pressed against his. He considers this to be a remainder of his mind’s wondering, dream phantoms latching to reality, but the sensation of instant warmth cannot be mistaken for an illusion. Hannibal slowly opens his eyes and sees Bedelia, lying next to him, her hand gently moving across his chest.

“Bedelia?” he asks in continuous amazement.

“I am sorry to have waken you,” she whispers, a slight tension in her figure settling beneath the covers.

“Not at all,” he reassures her at once, his arms opening in a welcoming gesture.

An inaudible murmur escapes her lips as she instantly moves to rest her head on his torso. Hannibal’s heart gives a joyous thump against his rib cage at once again having her exactly where she belongs.

“I was expecting you tomorrow evening,” he enquires quietly while his arm wraps firmly around her frame.

“I rescheduled the flight,” she purrs against his chest, her breath a warm caress on his skin, the strain of separation disappearing in a breeze.

“How so?” he gently strokes her hair, relishing the velvety feel with fresh avidity, “You should have called me, so I would collect you.”

“The hotel has not been that comfortable after all,” she says simple, offering no further explanation, but he can easily read between her words.

“Perhaps you should make a note of it to the management,” he carries on with her pretence, suppressing a grin.

“Yes,” she sighs out and presses herself closer to him, head burrowing into the hollow of his shoulder, her feeble excuse already forgotten.

Hannibal does not question her further, still smiling as she promptly falls asleep in his arms, languid and content.

There is only one thing that can match being cared for by Bedelia: her needing him as well.

**Author's Note:**

> Hannibal being a drama queen is always fun to write; he just misses his wife so much. But it's all good, because she misses him as well. I love my marrieds.  
> Thank you for reading! ♥ Please consider leaving a comment or any kind word; like a fairy I need people to clap for me to continue writing.


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